


It Ain't Me

by mrs_d



Series: Dead Ends [13]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: F/M, Other, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Anne has to remind herself that Eddie isn’t really her problem anymore. She still cares about him, of course, but she isn’t his partner. She isn’t his wife. And with everything that happened at the Life Foundation, part of her is damn glad of that fact.





	It Ain't Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer, but I ran out of steam. Title (if it's not obvious by now), comes from the [song of the same name.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6sSQq7a_Po)

Dan’s face is flushed with wine and laughter. Beside him on the couch, Amir is practically choking as he takes over telling Anne the story of their last camping trip.

“So, we take him to the ER—” he begins.

“Can you imagine, four doctors at the ER and not one of us sober!” Dan interjects.

 “—and they set him up in a room, with a drip—”

“Just Gravol and fluids, nothing we couldn’t have done ourselves, but you know Ian,” Dan says to Anne.

Anne does not, in fact, know Ian; she’s only met him once. But she laughs like she’s supposed to, and it’s not actually all that forced. Dan and his friends are serious guys, so it’s funny to see them this worked up, even though she can tell that they’re telling one of those stories where you just had to be there.

“Oh my god, Ian,” Amir agrees. He shakes his head and wipes his eyes. “That fucking guy.”

“We’ll see what happens this year,” says Dan. “If he gets drunk again, that’s his wife’s problem now.”

Amir laughs again. “No kidding. He’s mellowed out the last few months or so, I think married life is suiting him well.”

Anne may not know Ian well, but she knows enough to know the story of their whirlwind relationship: first date to marriage in less than four months. Not that she’s one to judge; she and Dan are engaged, despite only getting together eight months ago.

Speaking of, Dan nudges Anne’s leg with his own. “You’re welcome to come with us this time, if you can get away from the office.”

Anne nods with a smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Dan gives her that bright grin she loves so much. The conversation continues, Amir talking about how his girlfriend just started a new job. Anne sips her wine and lets them catch up, while she considers what Dan just said about Ian: _That’s his wife’s problem now._

Often, more often than she’d care to admit, she’s thought something similar about Eddie. She’s found herself worrying about him, and she’s had to remind herself that he isn’t really her problem anymore. She still cares about him, of course, but she isn’t his partner. She isn’t his wife.

And with everything that happened at the Life Foundation, part of her is damn glad of that fact.

“Right, babe?” says Dan suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. She isn’t quite sure what he’s talking about, but she laughs anyway.

“Of course,” she says, and Dan grins at her again.

* * *

Dan’s not jealous — no, really, he’s not — so when Eddie texts her a few days later to ask her out for a coffee, Anne goes. They’ve gotten together a couple of times since the Life Foundation fiasco. Dan came with her the first time, just in case, but Eddie was fine, though he was clearly kind of depressed about losing Venom.

She arrives first, orders a decaf vanilla latte for herself and has to make a conscious decision not to order for him, too. She still remembers what he likes: a triple-shot, almond milk caramel macchiato. It’s an expensive drink, and given what he’s been through, she wants to treat him, but something about the prospect feels dangerous — too close to that line between being friends and being something more. It’s too similar to what she’d do if they were still together: she’d order his drink and tease him about the heart palpitations it would give him. Then he’d roll his eyes and kiss her, tell her she worried too much, and Anne would smile and kick him gently under the table.

But it’s not her place to buy him coffee anymore, and it’s not her place to nag him about his health, either.

When Eddie arrives, he’s twitchy — too much caffeine already, probably. He gives her a wave as he heads to the counter. His lips are moving slightly, but he’s smiling, and a minute later he’s at their table with a mug of green tea.

Anne can’t hide her surprise at that. “Tea?” she asks. “Who are you, and what have you done with Eddie?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are serious; Anne remembers suddenly that Eddie wasn’t Eddie not that long ago, that there was someone else inside, an almost-friend of Eddie’s, who died recently. The smile drops off her lips.

“Sorry,” she says quietly.

Eddie waves off her apology. “Trying to cut back on caffeine,” he explains. “Plus, antioxidants and shit. I’m told it’s good for me.”

“Oh,” says Anne, wondering who told him that.

He looks up from his tea and gives her a crooked grin. “So how’s Dan? Been meaning to come by, thank him again for his help with my... medical issues.”

“That’s a euphemism if I’ve ever heard one,” Anne comments with a wry smile.

Eddie chuckles again. “I know. Hell of a thing, huh?”

“Sure threw me for a loop,” Anne agrees. “And Dan’s good. Thanks.”

“Good,” says Eddie, sounding relieved. “That’s good.”

“So are you—” Anne starts to ask, before she thinks better of it.

“Am I what, Annie?” Eddie says. He’s suddenly on edge, sitting just a little too still.

Anne half-smiles at the nickname. No one else ever calls her that. “I was just gonna ask if you were seeing anyone,” she admits, feeling her cheeks warm up with embarrassment. “I just thought— with the tea, I— I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

Eddie seems to relax again. “You think my girlfriend’s getting me to eat better?” he says. His mouth twists up like it’s a private joke — hilarious, but he can’t let loose and laugh about it in front of her.

Anne shrugs. “I’m not jealous,” she reminds him. “If you have someone, that’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“Aww,” says Eddie in a low — very low — voice. “That’s nice.”

But he doesn’t answer the question, and he doesn’t elaborate. He drinks his tea, even though it’s still steaming hot, and Anne sips at the sweet foam of her latte as she tries to remember what story he was working on the last time they saw each other, so she can ask him for a progress update. Was it Roxxon Energy or Stark Industries? She isn’t sure.

The silence stretches between them, long and awkward enough to Anne to wonder if this whole thing was a good idea. She’s thinking of making an excuse and leaving early, but then Eddie’s leg jerks forward, hitting her foot and the table leg, too, making both of their drinks splash over the rim of their mugs.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Eddie exclaims. “I just— I didn’t— I’ll be right back.”

He gets to his feet, moving like his limbs are on stilts, and heads to the milk station in the corner to grab them some napkins. Anne watches him go, looking away when he turns back, digging in her purse for her miniature hand sanitizer.

Eddie wipes up the mess, muttering to himself. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Stop looking at her like that.”

Anne blinks, a chill sliding abruptly down her back. This is too familiar, it’s freaking her out. “Eddie?” she says finally.

His eyes land on her. It’s him in there— just him, but he’s nervous, caught out. Keeping a secret. “I gotta go,” he tells her. “I forgot— deadline. So— see you later, Annie.”

And he walks right out of the cafe, leaving her with a pile of soaked napkins and two half-empty drinks.

* * *

The next time she sees him, it’s by accident. They don’t live in the same neighborhood anymore, but even San Francisco is only so big, especially since she’s a lawyer, and Eddie has a habit of hanging out around courthouses, following up on one story or another.

“Annie,” he calls to her from the sidewalk, and is it her imagination, or does he look different, somehow?

“Hi, Eddie,” she replies, descending the steps to meet him halfway. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good, thanks.” he says, fast like he’s nervous. Nodding. Twitchy again. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she says. It’s not her imagination, she realizes. His hair is a different color. “You dyed your hair.”

“No, I washed it,” Eddie explains, and his voice comes out kind of gravelly.

Anne blinks. Eddie clears his throat, half-coughs. He looks pale, and it might just be the sun, but she thinks he’s sweating.

“Are you sick?” Anne asks.

“Nah, Annie, I’m good,” says Eddie, sounding like himself, like he used to when she used to worry about him. “Just something in my throat. Look, I wanted to say I’m sorry about the other day, when I rushed out on you.”

“Oh,” says Anne, surprised. “That’s okay.”

Eddie sends her one of those bashful looks that she used to fall for, every time. “Not really. It was pretty rude, so I’d like to apologize.”

Anne nods. “In that case, apology accepted,” she tells him, matching his formal tone.

He smiles, then asks her about Dan, and she asks him about the case he’s working on — which has nothing to do with her client, thankfully. Before long, she’s walked with him around the corner, to where his motorcycle is parked.

“You miss it?” Eddie asks, clearly noticing the way her eyes linger on the bike.  

“I guess so,” says Anne, her cheeks heating. He’s good at reading people, especially her. “It was fun.”

“We could go for a ride sometime, if you still have your helmet.”

Her eyes slide back to him. He shrugs, casual and — she’s not gonna lie — attractive. He’s a hot guy, always has been, and she does have a sweet spot for motorcycles. But she doesn’t have her helmet anymore; she sold it about a day after they broke up. She was so mad at him she couldn’t stand to look at the thing.

“I don’t, sorry,” she tells him. He doesn’t need to know the whole story.

“It’s okay, Annie,” Eddie says with another shrug. He puts his helmet on and moves away. “Good to see you, say hi to Dan for us.”

“Okay,” says Anne, stepping back as he revs up the bike. He raises a gloved hand as he pulls away from the curb, and Anne waves back.

As she’s climbing into her car, it occurs to her that he might have been flirting with her, possibly even asking her out. But that doesn’t feel right, and she’s not sure why. The whole drive home, she thinks about it, and while she’s stuck in traffic, she realizes that it was the way he shrugged, the way he didn’t push it at all when she said no, the way his posture was telling her not to take the offer too seriously.

It wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t being flirty; just friendly. And all those questions about Dan, trying to include him in everything they discussed — he talked to her like a friend, not like an ex-boyfriend.

Which means he’s really not interested in her anymore.

That’s a good thing, she tells herself. Really, it is. Still, she can’t help but feel a bit sad, too. Recognizing that Eddie’s moved on is like a lock sliding into place — even though the door was already closed, this feels a little more final.

When she pulls into the drive, she’s surprised for a second that Dan’s car isn’t here. Then she remembers that it’s Tuesday. He offers evening appointments today and won’t be home till nine or later. If she’d remembered sooner, she would have picked up a pizza on the way home, so she didn’t have to cook and would have plenty of leftovers in case Dan comes home starving; he has a bad habit of working through lunch.

She opens the front door, and Mr. Belvedere hops down from the counter, clearly caught in the act of licking the dirty dishes again.

“Dinner’s not that late,” she tells him, getting his food from the cupboard.

Mr. Belvedere meows and rubs against her ankles before flopping down at her feet. She crouches, spends a minute rubbing his fluffy belly the way Eddie used to, until he nips at her fingers like he nipped at Eddie’s, and she gets to her feet again.

It’s a good thing that Eddie’s moved on, she thinks again. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend now. He’s been single for ages — maybe they could double date. That’s something that friends do, right?

While she dishes out a bit of canned food for the cat, she thinks back to the green tea and the way Eddie’s clean hair shone in the sun today. His shirt was clean, too, and she thinks maybe he was wearing cologne. Anne chuckles, remembering the way that she used to have to remind him to do things like wash his clothes and put on deodorant. Sometimes she’d tease him about what he’d do if he didn’t have—

“Wait,” Anne says out loud. “He said, ‘Say hi to Dan for _us.’_ He _is_ dating someone!”

Mr. Belvedere twitches his tail, unimpressed.

“Oh, like you would have figured it out any sooner,” Anne mutters.


End file.
